The Red Balloon and the Blue Moon
by Takato Lover16
Summary: Like an unanswered E-mail, I know you've heard; I know you listened and witnessed; but yet, you choose to ignore.


The Red Balloon and the Blue Moon

Let me introduce myself; my name is Takuya, Takuya the red balloon. I spend my days floating through trees, buildings, fountains, waterfalls, canyons and over red and white glistening bridges. It's not a glamorous life, but it's enough for me.

At least, that could've been said; before the light diminished.

Expectant of a slow, contemporary sound, my hollow but air insides chucked themselves around; the day had spun into darkness, stars like Broadway stars danced into view; all mediocre, though, to the brightest white I'd ever witnessed.

Waxed like a sunburnt candle thread, this round shape came so through the black; introduction from twelve towering trumpets, then turned quiet to some violin duets, horn, trumpet, stroke, silky captivation; gentle tune, trumpet; I floated nearer, or so it had me believe.

Following the music and light, I followed, followed until it began to fade. Faster I slid, string bouncing hard against the windward stretches. That white shape undid before me, turning pink skies behind it; nearer the end, all I noticed was what I hadn't noticed before – it was blue.

Vapour of a coming rain was the water to my plastic eyes, turning slippery down the oval descent.

Ball of fire at its peak, I hear two people talking; nosy peek around the corner; they say something which makes my knot tighten right up.

Moon – was that the name of last night's beauty?

Almost a complete thirty you's later, seeing you diminish a little more each night – you look now less like a sphere and more of a half-eaten 'Chocolate Digestive'. Every day, I learn more about you; people used to think you were made of cheese, you know?

I never thought that, though – you're more 'Marmite'-ey, if anything.

Sat on my favourite ledge of green, in the full inhalation of your gleam, I'm careful of the thistles lying in wait and nightmares of puncture coming to wake.

An idea hit me like lightning.

Maybe I shouldn't be chasing lengthways, toward the horizon; instead, I should climb high, over the clouds and such – then, maybe we'll be able to meet.

I wandered, wandering through desert skies, crossed before desperate tries; muffled cries, still not enough to reach your sand spilt eyes.

High enough now, to feel ice begin to wrinkle my body, I bellow words of love and loneliness without you. Like an unanswered E-mail, I know you've heard; I know you listened and witnessed; but yet, you choose to ignore

After that, I daren't message anymore.

Days turned to sleeping and waiting to see you. I was miserable when having everything to do without you. How did I ever survive before we met; why was I alive? How was I alive?

Sometimes, I feel less of a balloon and more of a moon; what I mean is, I'm always halved when not with you, then when with you, I'm full.

Maybe I should've told you that, instead… No, that wouldn't have worked.

I'm nothing to you – it can't be helped.

I shouldn't blame you.

Seven months passed…

We finally started talking; you never mentioned anything about before. I gave that a first thought, but the music soon drowned it out, anyway.

I was happy just helping you with problems like girls, family and feeling unattractive – I always said it'd be enough, just to hear your voice.

I expertly complicated things, just to avoid the dreadfully simple truth we both knew.

But then, I got greedy.

I said that I liked you, I said that I care; Though, too much, it seemed Was left unwritten in the air.

You were surprised at first, Though I still wonder why; When I said I liked you, And hated hearing you cry.

I said I liked you, But of that you'll never see; A fool was I to think being open Would bring you me.

After that second, When you said you didn't care; I left it for four nights, Wandering here and there.

Not a word was said of the past, Not even a blink fast eyeglass; After I said I liked you.

Here we are, I've told you again; I never did believe in magic, But am looking for a spell To mend.

The third time is now;

I would say I like you, But I don't know how.

I would say I care, But there's more than a caring heart

Writing in the air.

Seven years later…

I struggle to tighten my creases, your melody floating just behind me; I won't turn. You disappeared without warning, without being due; now, I find you back, feeling lonely – right on cue.

I loved you – I would've given you anything – would've done anything you wished; but now, it's you who's the one to love, to love and to be torn, to love and feel the thorn.

Now, I hear all those words of crying, those words of old not new; though mine they were before, now they escape from the craters of you. So, yes; go and cry, cry all you'd like; cry, see if that's make you any less blue; cry all those teardrops that fell from me, all those clouds I had to bribe; cry – it might just make it all seem true.

It's impossible to continue like this; I sat awake every night, for some few seconds of false bliss; you should've told me you felt no emotion, not make me believe in some foolish, fairytale notion. Maybe it's unjustifiable to feel mad, but wasn't it that same thing which made me love, love though I knew the truth of sad.

Still you ignore me; with every message I feel more a fool. I never noticed, not once; you were being kind to be cruel.

You're fading again, and I'm falling. Its winter, you're yet a little visible at quarter-to-ten.

Ending long unplanned, though I knew it'd end exactly this way; you've already parted, though you'll be there at the death of every day.

Floor, knives of glass, impaled.

BANG!

Bleeding puff of invisible blood, red rips cut open, string's heartbeat stopped.

Last of life gone, I flop to the ground; music everywhere, I smile – lying drowned in a puddle – reflection of you beside.

I only wanted to be your other half.


End file.
